Sectumsempra
by ristiki
Summary: Harry used it only upon his "enemy" and the one he loved was dead. Overcome by grief, he acts rashly and loses his signature edge, letting go... of what exactly? Read and find out! (I don't own Harry Potter or the references to it (mult chapters))
1. Chapter 1

It's that moment when you take in the fact that the one person you thought was always going to be around is no longer there. It is a quiet kind of tapping in your heart, letting you know how hallow its walls make the inside seem. You have lost everything and it is all in you arms, covered in muck and grime.

"Draco!" You scream, but nobody can hear you. The Forbidden Forest drowns out your sobs and terrorized yelps. Even the spiders stay away from you. They are scared of your pain, afraid they will feel it if they come near you.

_It was just one spell, meant for enemies._ You think, but there is no more time to think. No more time to digest. _Why would the Prince write such a spell?_ Maybe, you realize, it is because the Prince knew what a horrible liar you always were and he wanted you to pay for it.

You drop the body and feel trapped in your own. You can't look at the corpse. There is blood, dirt and leaves. There is a look of calm, even amongst the ash. Slashes all about the skin and abdomen and the face still shines through as stark white and pure as ever. The pain hits like a tornado, ten times a few moments past. _This cannot be happening._

You can no longer smile, or laugh, or ever see yourself being in the company of friends. _Ron and Hermione have each other. The Order will take care of Voldemort. They don't need me anymore. Nobody needs me._

You take out your wand, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. You feel the familiar grooves in your hands, gazing at Ollivander's work. Even then, even with the fond memories of your wand, you cannot smile. Never again will you smile.

Your knees give out and you think _It's time that the boy who lived, died._ And without further ado, you pull out your wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_" You order, but your wand sputters out. You try one, two, three more times, begging for death. Nothing happens, you are at the mercy of Ollivander's work, his will in the wand. Even before you came around, Ollivander knew to keep you safe, just like everyone else. Why can't they just let you die?

You content to lying next to the crumpled, seemingly sleeping Draco Malfoy. You fantasize about hearing weak breaths hitting your face, but there are none. Draco has been dead for twenty minutes now. You cannot keep a steady grip and lean upon his corpse, feeling his bones set. You lie him flat and cross his arms, making him look sweet and asleep, rather than sprawled and dead. You try to smile, but cannot.

"Harry! Harry where are you?" you hear Hermione call. "Where you gone off to now, Mate?" you hear from Ron. The calls come closer, you are running out of time. Without a second to consider, you pull out the shard of mirror Sirius gave you if ever in an emergency. If any, this was the one you needed him for and he was also dead.

_One. Two. Three._ You count off, and before hesitation and consideration can come forward, you plunge the large shard of glass into your stomach. Searing pain spreads around the area. Compared to the emotional pain of murdering Draco, this is a merry-go-round ride. You grimace as you pull out the shard, slicing open your veins on your wrists. In a last call on what is surely to end you life, you stab into you heart, feeling the undeniable pain and hot flash before you eyes. That flash that did not prevail in dark magic of a skilled Lord, but in the grievance of a broken heart.

Feeling yourself plunder, you relax into the arms of the one you killed and loved. You wrap yourself in his arms as the life drains from your body. Blood begins to come forth in your mouth, and you feel yourself shiver in the cold of blood loss.

You hear the shifty yelps of the people you feel like you never really knew and it's all so faded. There is one thing unmistakeable you can identify just as you drift into a forever sleep.

"HARRY NO!" The yell of the one you thought you killed, rising from his trauma faint.

Who knew a Slytherin could be so cool and still when he slept?


	2. Chapter 2

"Hagrid... what do I do? I don't know anyone!" Harry exasperated. "Harry yer goona do jes' fine. People'll love yeh, as yer the Boy Who Li-" Hagrid got a sharp blush on his bristled cheeks. Harry found this change in character odd and asked, "The Boy Who What?" Hagrid mumbled something about having said too much and sent him on his way, confused and dazed as he stumbled through the passage to Platform 9 ¾.

Harry stumbled into an empty cart on the colorful, warm train and settled in, hearing the faint clinking of his galleons within his coat pocket. He had just become comfortable and sleepy when a blonde boy strode confidently into his compartment.

"Crabbe, are you in here I have been looking all down the place for y-" The hurried boy stopped mid-sentence and his throat caught. He couldn't speak, for just a second or two. Before Harry could ask what was wrong, the silvery blonde regained his composure. In a holier-than-thou tone, he introduced himself as "Malfoy, Draco Malfoy. Remember the name, because I will be doing great things, Harry Potter. You are not alone in your greatness."

Harry smiled, already intrigued by the boy, Malfoy. Out of the many wizards and witches he had met in the last few weeks, all were awed and elated by his presence. Grown men and women were begging to meet him and practically groveling at his very feet. He was happy to be meeting someone who found himself an equal or more to himself.

"Don't get sly, Potter. I know I am quite a looker, but you need not stare." Malfoy sneered in a joking tone. Harry could really see himself being friends with him.

Suddenly, the whole scene changed. Malfoy was sneering once more, but in a hateful way, to whom, Harry had not yet to tell. He sat, unmoving, not wanting to bother with the only peer he had talked to so far. He still felt something was wrong; he was uneasy.

"Ronald Weasley, or shall I say, Ronald _Grease_ley? When was the last time you took a shower, you filthy waste of magic? Merlin knows..." A hurt tone answered in a soft, yet willfully innocent tone "Malfoy, you are the one who has slicked back hair. Do not try to cover your disgust in yourself by trying to bother me. Crabbe and Goyle have been looking for you, by the way." Malfoy's stance became that of a wounded animal; Harry noticed that a personal insult seemed to physically effect the boy. He would remember that.

With a quick look back at Harry, giving a half grin to assume his boastful pride he had originally imposed upon Harry, Malfoy walked into the next train car to find the so called Crabbe and Goyle. He watched the boy walk away with a swagger and the door tapped shut swiftly behind him. Could he go with Malfoy and accompany him to Hogwarts? Was it beyond boundaries to assume that sort of assertiveness was okay in the wizarding world?

Before he could fully rise and exit the compartment to trail after his newly made acquaintance, a boy popped in and sat across Harry. He was tall and freckled, seemingly happy and energetic. He looked dazed and shook Harry's hand, "The name's Ronald Weasley, just call me Ron though. What's your name?" Shaking the hand back a bit, he said "I'm Harry Potter." The boy looked shocked and excited, vigorously shaking Harry's hand, then composing himself.

"Wow..." he said, releasing his iron grip. Harry sighed and felt like he was going to make a friend in the happy boy across him; he just knew.

For the rest of the train ride, he held a fun conversation with Ron, with the interruption of an odd bushy-haired girl looking for her new textbook _Hogwarts: A History_.

Even so, Harry could not smile, but didn't frown. He knew that he was different from the other wizards, but he knew he had an equal; an equal that would hurt his new friend. An equal he would have to watch out for in the years to come.


	3. Chapter 3

Over the year, Harry had become very close with Ron Weasley and the brainy, bushy-haired Hermione Granger. On the other hand, Draco Malfoy had made it clear how very much he disliked the two of them.

"Potter" Malfoy spat, glaring at Harry. Harry nodded, trying to restrain himself from punching the mangy git. _How could he?_ Harry thought, tears welling up in his eyes. He had lost his fight for the moment and he knew Malfoy could sense it.

At any other time, Malfoy would have sniggered at the boy before him, the one on the verge of tears, but he knew that he couldn't be so cruel. He could duel a boy with a strong will and determination, but not a boy about to collapse as Harry looked like he would.

Harry saw a look of sadness in the silvery blue eyes before him. Malfoy's mouth went thin. He reached out his hand to Harry, offering to help him up rather than to jinx him. Harry looked into the eyes again, knowing the gesture was not a lie. He reached out for the stark white hand in gratitude.

Before their fingertips could touch, Ron Weasley trampled around the corner. Seeing Malfoy's hand reaching for Harry, he ran at Malfoy with his full force. Malfoy skidded across the floor, still on his feet, hitting a ledge. Before he lost his balance, he pierced Harry with a blatant stare, which Ron didn't notice, and jutted backwards over the ledge.

Harry felt a white hot pain burst through his chest, rather than his scar, for once. It was no relief. He walked calmly to the edge, restraining the feelings of terror resting inside himself so Ron would notice nothing abnormal.

"Ron, get help. Get Snape." ordered Harry in a strangely calm tone. Ron look bewildered. "Snape...?" he asked. "His head of house is who should escort him to Madame Pomfrey. Not us." Ron nodded in understanding and headed toward the Potions classroom.

Harry summoned his broom _"Accio broom!_" and flew a bit jerkily down to where Malfoy lay. He lay down his broom, knowing he had little time before Ron and Snape had come to Malfoy's side. He touched the fair blonde's forehead and immediately there was a change in state.

Two sets of eyelids fluttered open. "Potter..." a groan emitted from his pale pink lips. Harry felt tremors up his spine. "I'm here. I know I'm not who you want, I know... Snape is coming shortly." Malfoy tried to sit up but cringed. Ribs were broken, Harry observed. "You are... exactly who I want here." Malfoy whispered, a tear streaking his cheek.

Before he could respond, Malfoy shut his eyes, pretending to be passed out. This was a clue to Harry to leave. He needn't get any punishment from Snape, not then.

Harry dreamed that night of all his memories. All of them seemed to revolve around Malfoy. Malfoy on the train ride to Hogwarts. Malfoy just before him in line for the Sorting Hat. Malfoy being assigned his lab partner in Potions. Malfoy this, Malfoy that.

He arose with a start, seeing in his dream that Ron was summoned to tackle Malfoy not for the nerve in himself, but to protect Harry. Ron, heaving his chest in his bed, the chamber cool with the breeze of the open window. Ron was trying to protect him, Malfoy's pain was his fault.

Harry didn't know why, but he felt as though nothing could ease his guilt but to hurt himself. He found his wand, but did not chant _Lumos_ as he would have done any other night. He felt overcome with a powerful magic and transformed his wand into the smallest and most intricate and appetizing of daggers.

He didn't know what made this idea so appealing, but he stared at the dagger, seeing how its lines glowed, waiting to touch something satisfying, to cut into new flesh and taste blood. Without another thought, Harry drew the blade hard across his wrist.

This was a muggle form of punishment, it was, but Harry could not care in the least. He knew something would come from not being Malfoy's friend on that first day, but who knew it would be... love? He did not want to admit to love, but with every slice, the realization screamed even louder before him.

He began to shake and whimper, his hands out of his control. They had been beyond his will the whole time, cutting into his own flesh. Tears welled and finally streamed down his cheeks. His blood formed a large pool that had by now seeped through the floor and began dripping into the Gryffindor common room.

Ron awoke and saw a shaking figure on the floor. He looked to Harry's bed. He knew suddenly, "Harry is that you?" A shaky nod answered his question. Ron lept to the floor, feet becoming instantly drenched in a dark liquid. "What's that..? What's..." Suddenly he heard a fresh sob emit his bright friend and saw the dagger. He was drenched in blood, Harry's blood.

A loud holler announced the state of Harry and soon everyone in the chamber was awake. Harry dropped the dagger and slumped over, pale, into the growing pool of his own blood, mouthing the word "Malfoy" before he passed out. Ron scrambled for the door and ran, trailing Harry's blood behind him.

"Just as I planned" a sniggering voice drawled. "Potter will never stand a chance against what I've got in store for him in the oncoming years..." Grinning wickedly, Severus Snape transformed Harry's wand back from a ruby red dagger into a wand once more, chuckling at the near death of The Boy Who Lived.


	4. Chapter 4

It was a quiet night, Harry recalled. He was running after Ron with Hermione, the bushy-haired brain. He had just seen the black dog that had been haunting him for Merlin knows how long snatch up Ron by his collar and pounce off without skipping a beat.

Ron cried, "Help! Hermione, please! Harry! DO SOMETHING!" Harry just ran, hoping for his life to save Ron. He saw the destination of the dog's travel and froze. The Whomping Willow. Harry had known of its existence for a time, but never knew its secret.

The Whomping Willow let the dog pulling Ron quietly past, no objection, not even a mere rustle in its branches. _Is it asleep?_ Harry thought. Hermione looked confused, but she stepped forward, not chancing the time to think when Ron was in danger. Harry was allowed a moment of awe in her rash behavior before the Whomping Willow forcibly stole Hermione from the ground. Harry screamed in agony as he too was thrown feet away, writhing in a shocking pain.

Malfoy heard an unmistakable scream. _Harry._ He thought. He ignored the wail with effort. Even down in the dungeon, he could not help but hear the grimy git. _I am trying to sleep, Potter._ He sneered inaudibly in his mind. Still, the sounds of struggle were clear. It seemed he was the only Slytherin to hear these cries and hollers.

Reluctantly, he obeyed his body's orders and rose to his feet. He slipped on his robe and shoes, slipping out of his chamber, through the common room, and out into the dark passage.

The further he rose, the more crisp the sound of battle became. With every step, Malfoy became more and more concerned. When it came to Harry, he was considered an enemy. When it can to Harry, he knew he could never hate such a brilliant source of magic and... spirit.

Harry felt the bruises beginning to form. Blood was splattered on his robes. "Harry!" Hermione cried. Harry could not see her, for his glasses had fallen off. He rose once more, thrashing and running about in search of his glasses. Once found, he saw a thick tree limb bounding toward him. Instinctively, he dove.

He had not hit the ground or fallen. He landed upon a soft, cool surface. The surface became rigid and threw him to the ground. He looked up, seeing none other than Malfoy.

"Malfoy" he spat, "what is the snake doing out of his dungeon so late? Come to beat me more than the Whomper here?" Without a word or a characteristic sneer, Malfoy knelt beside Harry.

"Last year," Malfoy whispered as Hermione wailed into the darkness, where neither Malfoy or Harry were visible, "I remember what you did." Harry froze in shock. _Why was Malfoy talking about last year? How did he know? Why was Malfoy there with him? Why was he not sneering and jeering as usual?_

"Potter, I can never thank you enough for not leaving me alone that day. I am sorry for the results of Weasley's stupidity." he mumbled, hardly louder than a soft breeze. Harry didn't know what to say. He looked down at his scars, in which there were many. He remembered then his real task and rose.

Malfoy had expected something else, at least an answer from Harry as he slipped away. Hermione figured a way to get herself down and once Harry was in view, she scolded him and quickly relayed the plan of enter to the hallow under the tree. Before Malfoy could come into sight, Harry and Hermione had vanished.

Harry was distracted from the time on, trying to remember what he was there to do. Once he found Ron with the black dog, things became clearer. The black dog transformed and became the dark and feared character, Sirius Black.

It seemed like days, minutes, hours went by before all of the confusion and the pain and the emotional trauma of the situation with Sirius was made clear. He understood, by the end of it all, that Sirius was his godfather, Wormtail was the true killer of his parents, and that the Shrieking Shack was named after Lupin and his wails as a werewolf.

Even with everything clear to him, Harry felt confused by something else, something that seemed to be more dire of importance. He saw Hermione embracing Ron in a tight hug and a pain hit him square in the chest.

Malfoy waited on the grass, in the shadows. He waited for hours. He laid on the grass, cold and aching in his heart.

He was told many a time that he had no heart. What was it inside of him that was about to burst then? He waited in the dark longer than he had ever waited for anything. He thought more and more about what happened back in the first year to Harry Potter.

_He lost so much blood. _Malfoy thought. He teared up, but did not cry. Malfoy do not cry. Malfoy's do not love either. Even so, he could not help but feel trapped in a bind to Harry Potter. He wanted to love him, but he was to be the boy's enemy according to his parents and according to his family's past. He dared not risk his family for the feelings brewing within him, or Prof. Snape would return to him a force of anger and reprimand beyond belief.

But he waited.

Ron was back, holding Hermione. Wormtail escaped the hands of his captor. Lupin was to transform, so he ran quickly away from the premises at the moment of return to the school. Sirius remained behind, going into hiding in a way which he would not relay to Harry at the time.

Harry was alone. He walked back the way the way he came, thinking unwillingly about Malfoy. _How did he remember? How did he know? _

Harry's thoughts were interrupted by an unseen clearing of the throat. Harry knew exactly who it was. "Malfoy" he whispered. Malfoy drug him to the ground without a word into the shadows, covering his mouth with one hand. Harry became wildly alert of Malfoy's hands.

"Potter. I don't want you to talk right now, just listen." Malfoy ordered in a softer version of his crisp, sure voice. "That day when the Weasley threw me out, I remember you flying down by me. I wasn't sure it was you, but once I heard Weasley and Snape round the bend, I knew you were the only other it could have been." he took a deep breath and continued, "I remember wanting you to stay." He looked physically ill, but continued forth, "I saw bandages around your arms the next day, red stained bandages. I know exactly what happened. Someone threatened me with that punishment when I dishonored the Malfoy name a while back. Only the signature of the man at hand was shown in your case."

Malfoy took Harry's arms gently and pulled back Harry's sleeves. Harry shuttered, but allowed Malfoy to touch his scars that riddled his arms. "Po- Harry, I am sorry for what he has done to you. It was my fault." Harry froze; Malfoy had never called him Harry. He became again aware of Malfoy's touch.

Malfoy looked into Harry's eyes and ordered quietly, "Say something." Harry could think of nothing to say. He was finally letting himself feel the feeling he had always felt underlying his hatred. He felt the power of his mother's protection flow through him. He knew nothing better than to be who his mother stood for and represent her power: love.

Malfoy was taken aback as Harry suddenly leaned in, closing the small distance between them, and resting his lips upon Malfoy's own. Harry's lips were soft and warm, but slightly chapped in comparison to Draco's perfectly smooth ones. Draco did not move or breathe; he felt paralyzed. Harry, after a few moments leaned back and, slightly pink, said, "Draco, I'm sorry. I shouldn't ha-"

Draco slammed his lips upon Harry's. He closed his eyes and came closer to Harry. His tongue pressed into Harry's mouth like a snake into a cave. He kissed Harry with a ferocity that had built within himself for the past two and a half years. Harry was rigid and became relaxed as he returned Draco's kiss feverishly.

The touching and the kissing were soft and crazed all at once, abruptly ended by a sudden pain in Draco's chest. "Gah!" he shouted, falling upon his back. He couldn't move.

Harry had been kissing Draco in a sudden passionate embrace, which was quickly ended by Draco's obvious pain. He knew not to ask what was wrong. He looked into Draco's eyes and saw a tear fall from the pale Slytherin's eye. He became overridden with feeling, but pushed it aside, knowing that Draco's health was the top priority.

Without a second thought, he lifted the apparently paralyzed Draco Malfoy to Madame Pomfrey in the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey determined him cursed and looked to Harry in a reproachful way, regretting it as soon as she did so, seeing him pivot quickly to shed tears he rather her not have seen. He was away before she could apologize.

He began to run up the stairs, trying to get to the common room in Gryffindor tower. He need think of Draco any longer. They were enemies. The kiss was an accident. But he knew better than that.

Just as he was about to cross a staircase, he fell, plummeting to the floor far below. He lay barely breathing and unable to shout his pains. He lay there awake and tear-ridden, writhing in pain. His whole body bled within and he felt he would not live to see the next day. Where was his help when he needed it most? Who was there?

Just as Snape thought, Draco and Harry confided in each other. This set off his plan a bit early, but anything to show the two students their way into eternal hate for one another was fine by him. _If one should be killed, so be it. _He thought with a small grin across his face, laughing dully at his own thought of himself killing the Boy Who Lived.


	5. Chapter 5

"NO! You can't!" Harry screamed, but before he could say any more, Cedric was dead. Harry was silenced, not by magic, but by the horror of how easily he could kill a man. Voldemort laughed wickedly trailing his bony finger across Harry's open wound. Harry's scar was pulsating far faster than it ever had before. He resisted the urge to scream.

"Just scream. Yell. Cry, if you dare. I want to hear you suffer before you die." Voldemort egged on, digging his nail into Harry's visible muscle. Harry writhed in pain, tears brewing in his eyes. He dared not give in. He felt the pain of a thousand men dying before him, worse than the simple pain of a fingernail digging into him.

Voldemort laughed hard and loud, or what was as close as a laugh as he could come to muster; for a laugh is made of happiness, which Voldemort could not feel. Harry looked at the Death Eaters as they ran about, cackling in joy and nervousness. His eyes rested upon a certain man clad in black robes and a menacing mark: Severus Snape.

Harry saw it all like he had never seen it before. The cutting. The paralysis. The fall. All of it was by the dirty work of Snape. "Snape!" he cried, thrashing harder than ever upon his stone bounds. Voldemort chuckled, wiping Harry's blood across his scar, making him shake in agony as his bones felt as if they were all broken beyond repair.

"Yessssssss, Harry. Even your _favorite _teacher Severus was truly a Death Eater! He would never let you play with my toys. No, no, no." Voldemort hissed. _Play with his toys? _Harry thought. "How dare you? Draco is not a toy." Harry seethed. Voldemort unsuccessfully attempted to conceal his menacing grin. "Draco Malfoy is not a boy you want to get involved with, Harry. _He_ is not perfect like you. He would never live through an attack from me, not like you, oh Boy. Who. **Lived**. He will die tonight, maybe even with you! Wouldn't that be such a treat, everyone?" Everyone laughed back but Snape, who remained quite and seemingly indifferent.

"Oh MALFOY! Come here!" Voldemort yelled coolly. Suddenly, Lucius Malfoy apparated his son to the scene. Draco had appeared to be in mid-laugh, telling a good story he would never finish. He opened his eyes and suddenly lost the life in his eyes. He drained of color, becoming much paler than usual. His eyes seemed to hallow and he looked as though he had just seen death itself, then redeemed his composure. "Yes, Lord?" He asked, not looking Voldemort in the eye.

"Look at me in the _eye,_ Draco." Voldemort coaxed. Draco shook his head no. Suddenly, a chain linked in midair from Voldemort's grasp to Draco's neck, where a metal shackle surrounded his throat. Voldemort drug a struggling Draco to meet his eyes, where he was held by his metal noose a little about the ground, his eyes fading out. "Look me in the eye, Draco." Voldemort ordered once more. There was no response. Voldemort threw him down and stomped upon his arm, breaking it. "Agh!" Draco screamed in agony.

"STOP IT!" Harry cried. Draco looked at his with sad, knowing eyes just before his body was bent into an odd ball, his face frozen in terror, unable to scream. "STOP!" Harry yelled, unable to look at anything but the love of his life writhing upon the dead grass of the cemetery. "Why?" Voldemort asked as he apparently increased the pain, a tear falling from Draco's eyes. "I will kill you if you don't." Harry stated simply.

Draco's body relaxed and he panted loudly. He looked to Harry in gratitude and Harry gave a small grin back before he saw a change in Draco. His lips were being stitched shut from the inside out, blood forming at the corners of his mouth. He looked defeated and sorry for showing his thankfulness. Thankfulness was weakness. "Oh, Harry. You cannot have Draco. I will kill him after I have killed you, yes. It will be grand. Come now, and we shall fight, dear boy." He sneered in a way that resembled Draco all too much. It was a slap across the face and Voldemort knew it clearly.

Harry, within the next moment was shouting a spell and Voldemort a curse. Time felt like it was stretched. He looked to Voldemort, who was hidden in smoke. He looked to Draco, clear as day. He caught Draco's eye, the eye of an injured soul. "Draco, forgive me if I die." he said.

"You will not die, that is why he came to kill me afterward. He knew you would live to see my death. I am the one to be forgiven, Harry." Draco replied past the stitches, visibly in pain. "NO! You will not die! Drac-" "Harry, please, just listen. I am dying tonight. I want you to know, all of this rivalry spent has been difficult to uphold. I will love you even in death. I am sorry I am going to die, Harry. I am sorry you must find another. I am sorry." Draco whispered, yet Harry could hear as if the slight volume of Draco's voice was the only sound on the earth. He swam in it. "Not today, Draco. You will not die. I will give my life right now if you plan to let yourself die!" He did the opposite.

Harry saw suddenly the spirits of his mum and dad. There were other's he could not see. His mum coaxed him into defeating Voldemort and in a second's time, he snatched Draco and Cedric, taking the cup into his teeth, clenching hard until he and the other two had landed. They were at Hogwarts, a crowd cheering his victory. He felt no victory as he ripped the stitches from Draco's mouth.

Draco screamed and everyone fell quiet. They looked from Harry to Draco and then to the obviously dead Cedric. Everything went to bits after that. There was running, crying, confusion and everything else. There was an escape by Draco and a searching, scared Harry trying to find him.

Down in the dungeons, Draco felt he could hide from Harry. Everyone else was out and about in the ruckus. He was not being forced to, but he took his wand and emitted a golden rope from its end. He stepped up a set of invisible steps to serpentine lamp above, delicately tying his noose to it. Sliding the heavy gold round his neck, he vanished the steps and relaxed, feeling a clench just as a hurried boy with unruly hair flew through the entrance screaming, "DRACO, NO!"

In the next second, there was only black and an absence of feeling.


	6. Chapter 6

Harry had seen death. He saw every little bit of death and he wanted to see no more. He could not cry or laugh anymore, not when Draco had done what he had done.

"Harry." a voice draped around his neck, worming its way into his mind once again. _No._ Harry thought, but he could not fight the urge to listen. "Harry I need to die." the voice sputtered in a way that only a hanged person could. Harry's heart clenched. He did not want to go back to that memory, not again.

A voice rang out in the middle of his silence. "Potter, please pay a **little** more attention, dear boy! We needn't have a distracted student in my classroom! Turn to page 666 and continue reading with the rest of the class!" Umbridge snorted. Harry glared behind her as she walked on, catching the eye of a certain Slytherin. Draco meant to smile, but lost his chance with a bang. Umbridge slapped him across the face scolding, "You _must_ face forward, Draco! Do not look at other students. You have caused me enough trouble as it is, not to mention the boy you were staring at!" Everyone turned and stared at Draco, his face stinging.

"Enough, Umbridge." Harry said. Everyone turned their heads towards him, not trying to conceal their obvious interest in the scene unfolding before them. Umbridge pivoted and clopped her tiny pink-laced feet in his direction. "Harry Potter," her voice rang in a shrill, mocking tone, "you may think you are above us all because of your disturbing connection to Albus and the lies you have told us all, but you are nothing but an accident. I order you to stop intervening upon my teaching methods when you are not authorized to do so. I know my place and you must learn of your own."

"Your place is not to hurt your students. Your place is to teach them, which by the looks of it, you plan on doing a horrible job at." Harry said, not wishing to conceal any of the contempt he felt for Umbridge. Draco looked to him in a warning way just before Umbridge slashed her wand across his cheek, cutting into his skin. Blood formed at the line and ran down his face, but he did not falter. Holding her gaze, he laughed aloud.

"Detention, Potter. Every night. See you at 8:00." She said promptly. Once she had return to the front of the class, and the class had returned to their books, Harry returned to his memories, thanking whatever forces that guided him to Draco the night of Cedric's death.

After detention that night, his hand was swollen. 'I must not tell lies.' was engraved in his hands, dripping with blood. He knew that the next nights would hold nothing but the same torture. He began his walk back to the Gryffindor Tower, but there was a sudden stop in his tracks. Teary-eyed and shaking before him was Draco.

Without a chance to say a word, Draco had taken his hand and walked him around a corner and down a few halls to a private, darkened hall. "Harry, what happened today was my fault." Draco began, only to be hushed by Harry. "Do not blame yourself. I do not blame myself. Umbridge is heartless and neither of us did a thing out of line. Do not worry." He said, clipping Draco's shoulder haughtily with his hand. "Harry, let me see your hand."

The blood ran from Harry's face. He tried to turn to walk away, but Draco slammed him against the wall. "Draco..." Harry whispered, trying to hide his hand. He did not want Draco to see what Umbridge had done. "Please don't look." but it was no use. Draco had stolen Harry's hand and his eyes brimmed with tears once again. Harry looked down, afraid to look Draco in the eye.

"Harry, look at me." Draco sighed. He sounded sad, too sad. Harry did not want to meet those silvery blue eyes. He knew he would find something in them that would make him guilty beyond what he could handle at the moment. He watched Draco's thumb smear away the blood that remained on his wound. He watched as Draco brought his hand up, up, up until his lips lightly brushed upon Harry's hand. Harry finally looked into Draco's eyes.

Draco did not speak, for his eyes did the talking for him. _I'm so sorry. This shouldn't have happened._ There was something Harry wanted to say, but he couldn't think. He needed to leave before Mrs. Norris or someone came by and saw the two out of their chambers past the curfew. He took a step in the direction of the staircase and he was slammed harder against the wall. "Why do you always try to run?!" Draco sobbed. His shoulders wracked with sobs and Harry thought of hugging the boy, but he couldn't move his arms.

Draco looked up to a serene Harry. Harry's emerald eyes met his own and he felt like he was somewhere else, past Hogwarts, past the Wizarding World. He felt his heart lift for just a second, then something pulled him to place his lips upon Harry's.

Harry felt the sudden brush of Draco's lips, warm and soft. It was momentary, but it was enough to set him off. He gazed into Draco's eyes and the grip upon him loosened. He was no longer thinking about what may happen if someone saw the two of them. He let go of the rules, of the roles. He forgot about the constant hatred the two were meant to have for one another. He raised his hands to Draco's face and brought his lips once again to the Slytherin's in a kiss.

Draco melted his hands to Harry's hips and pressed closer to the Gryffindor, finally forgetting his past, present and future life for the moment. He smiled upon Harry's mouth and slid his tongue past Harry's lips. Harry froze momentarily, then tasted Draco's sweet tongue and the kiss became deeper and more ravenous.

They had only kissed once and this kiss was making up for the feelings that they had both put aside for so long. They molded perfectly and kissed for what seemed like ages. They were happy for those few precious moments. Breaking away to breathe, Harry looked up to Draco, letting his hand wipe away the remaining tears. Draco held Harry's hand to his cheek, wanting to smile but not having the energy to do so. Harry just looked at him and remembered all the times he had dreamed of another kiss with Draco.

Draco pulled Harry into a hug, a tight bear hug and pulled Harry off of the ground, since he was the taller of the two. Harry giggled like he hadn't done in years. They felt so happy in each other's arms, but the the same time, they both remembered that they were destined to hate one another. Draco let Harry go and twined his fingers in Harry's. Harry looked up to him, smiling sadly, clenching his fingers tightly. Harry did not notice that Draco's free hand had slid beneath his green robes and was shocked within a moments time.

Draco stabbed Harry Potter in the chest with the dagger Snape had ordered him to use moments ago through his thoughts and Harry was genuinely surprised. Harry's fingers unlocked and he fell backward to the floor with a thud. Draco let a tear fall upon Harry's hand just before being shipped off by a smug Snape, putting on a face of pride for the Slytherin head of house.

Harry was left upon the floor, bleeding and in shock, wishing he had never let his guard down for something as stupid as love during a time of craze and terror. He knew he was probably going to die that night and he closed his eyes, unable to picture anything but Draco's relaxed, calm face just before the kiss that was bound to be his last.


	7. Chapter 7

It did not take a lot to split them apart. After the visit to Madame Pomfrey's, Harry could not bear to look Draco in the eye. _How could he have done that to me? _He thought constantly, but could not bring himself to ask Draco. He often found himself in the little traveled corridor where the two had kissed, remembering how much he missed Draco. He would walk down the hall, daydreaming, just to be ended in the nightmare, crying as he left the corridor.

The days of walking by the last good memory the two shared went from a daily occurrence to less and less until he only ever went by there once more, crying one more time and then staying away from the past. Harry could not hang upon the memory of Draco Malfoy, for the boy had already tried to kill him and he could not let that happen again.

Draco Malfoy made sure to avoid the corridor where he had lived a splendid dream with Harry, but it was almost impossible. The staircases took him often away from his classes and to the secluded spot where he shared a deep, sweet kiss with Harry.

Every time he came to the spot, he hoped in a little boyish innocent part of himself that Harry would end up there as well, but he would slap himself back into the truth. He could never be with Harry Potter. He could not love Harry Potter. He was to hate Harry or kill him with his love.

Snape knew the weakness in Harry Potter was Draco Malfoy and he already liked to toy with the boy. He had shaped Malfoy's thoughts that splendid night and his body complied to Snape's orders. His wand became a dagger and he stabbed Harry in the chest. The only thing keeping him from killing Harry was all of his will going into not hitting his love's heart.

Still, seeing his bleeding, crumpled form upon the floor was something he could never forgive himself for. He spent a lot of his time contemplating how to kill himself to quit thinking about Harry and allowing Harry for a standing chance against the Dark forces of the Wizarding World, but all of his plans were read though his mind by Snape.

Every time he thought of a plan, sure to execute, Snape would call him to his classroom and torture him, forcing him to remain alive for the Dark mission or be killed along with his family in a more horrendous way than he could ever think of. He could not risk his family, so he forced himself to live, walking with the bruises, cuts and pain that Snape enforced upon him.

Over the period of a few months, the boys grew into a true hate for one another. Harry hated Draco for breaking not only his heart, but his hopes of love. He hated Draco for the constant jabs he took against him, feeling as though the boy he had loved so much was taken and replaced by a vindictive soul, tearing away at him on a constant basis. Draco hated Harry because he could not see how obviously the Dark magic of Lord Voldemort was circling round him. He hated that Harry was so blind and went about his days in a way that Draco could no longer sympathize in his torture.

Harry's heart had lost itself; Draco's body was a punching bag. Harry fought to be above Draco just because he could not stand looking up to the boy as he once had. Draco wanted to slap some sense into Harry, but knew better than to go farther then cursing his name and jeering at him.

A genuine hatred sparked between the two because they were both hurting, both dying to belong.


	8. Chapter 8

One night, Draco was in the girl's lavatory talking to Moaning Myrtle, the only one who listened to him. He wept over the sink and began to run out, in what direction, he couldn't place. He just ran.

"Wait!" Myrtle called, but Draco was long gone, running wherever his feet were taking him. She began to sink back into her toilet and there was a flood.

Draco ran. He ran down stairs, through the great oaken doors. He ran far into the Forbidden Forest. He ran and ran until he felt his lungs were to explode. He collapsed to the leafy ground and heard a rustling. He turned on a trembling Harry Potter; his eyes darkened deeply and he drew his wand.

"_Imperi-_" he started, but Harry yelled over him "_**Sectumsempra!"**_and Draco went silent, gracefully being lifted and falling upon his back. He felt at peace, eyes wide, and calm. He felt it suddenly and began to shake vigorously. _Blood_. He thought.

Cuts were setting deeply through his skin. He felt blood soaking his robes, reddening the brush beneath him. He felt oddly happy like this. He felt happy seeing the defenseless face of Harry. He looked at Harry in the eye, bleeding out to certain death.

He looked into the eyes of his certain murderer, Harry Potter, and felt absurdly enough, a rush of love. He remembered the long forgotten night in the corridor and a tear of joy fell from his eye, tearing something like a scream from Harry.

He blacked out and knew nothing of the event to come, the event that would take all meaning from his life as he knew it. The event that would change the fate of the Wizarding World eternally.


	9. Chapter 9

It's that moment when you take in the fact that the one person you thought was always going to be around is no longer there. It is a quiet kind of tapping in your heart, letting you know how hallow its walls make the inside seem. You have lost everything and it is all in you arms, covered in muck and grime.

"Draco!" You scream, but nobody can hear you. The Forbidden Forest drowns out your sobs and terrorized yelps. Even the spiders stay away from you. They are scared of your pain, afraid they will feel it if they come near you.

_It was just one spell, meant for enemies._ You think, but there is no more time to think. No more time to digest. _Why would the Prince write such a spell?_ Maybe, you realize, it is because the Prince knew what a horrible liar you always were and he wanted you to pay for it.

You drop the body and feel trapped in your own. You can't look at the corpse. There is blood, dirt and leaves. There is a look of calm, even amongst the ash. Slashes all about the skin and abdomen and the face still shines through as stark white and pure as ever. The pain hits like a tornado, ten times a few moments past. _This cannot be happening._

You can no longer smile, or laugh, or ever see yourself being in the company of friends. _Ron and Hermione have each other. The Order will take care of Voldemort. They don't need me anymore. Nobody needs me._

You take out your wand, feeling the pit in your stomach rise. You feel the familiar grooves in your hands, gazing at Ollivander's work. Even then, even with the fond memories of your wand, you cannot smile. Never again will you smile.

Your knees give out and you think _It's time that the boy who lived, died._ And without further ado, you pull out your wand. "_Avada Kedavra!_" You order, but your wand sputters out. You try one, two, three more times, begging for death. Nothing happens, you are at the mercy of Ollivander's work, his will in the wand. Even before you came around, Ollivander knew to keep you safe, just like everyone else. Why can't they just let you die?

You content to lying next to the crumpled, seemingly sleeping Draco Malfoy. You fantasize about hearing weak breaths hitting your face, but there are none. Draco has been dead for twenty minutes now. You cannot keep a steady grip and lean upon his corpse, feeling his bones set. You lie him flat and cross his arms, making him look sweet and asleep, rather than sprawled and dead. You try to smile, but cannot.

"Harry! Harry where are you?" you hear Hermione call. "Where you gone off to now, Mate?" you hear from Ron. The calls come closer, you are running out of time. Without a second to consider, you pull out the shard of mirror Sirius gave you if ever in an emergency. If any, this was the one you needed him for and he was also dead.

_One. Two. Three._ You count off, and before hesitation and consideration can come forward, you plunge the large shard of glass into your stomach. Searing pain spreads around the area. Compared to the emotional pain of murdering Draco, this is a merry-go-round ride. You grimace as you pull out the shard, slicing open your veins on your wrists. In a last call on what is surely to end you life, you stab into you heart, feeling the undeniable pain and hot flash before you eyes. That flash that did not prevail in dark magic of a skilled Lord, but in the grievance of a broken heart.

Feeling yourself plunder, you relax into the arms of the one you killed and loved. You wrap yourself in his arms as the life drains from your body. Blood begins to come forth in your mouth, and you feel yourself shiver in the cold of blood loss.

You hear the shifty yelps of the people you feel like you never really knew and it's all so faded. There is one thing unmistakeable you can identify just as you drift into a forever sleep.

"HARRY NO!" The yell of the one you thought you killed, rising from his trauma faint.

Who knew a Slytherin could be so cool and still when he slept?


End file.
